


What's Wrong With This Picture?

by AngelGirl4212



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 15:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelGirl4212/pseuds/AngelGirl4212
Summary: In memory of Jonathan Brandis. Title and writing in Italics are taken from the song “This Picture” by Placebo.





	What's Wrong With This Picture?

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through some of the stuff that I had written a long time ago. I stumbled across this. It does depict suicide.

_Sometimes it's faded_

_Disintegrated_

_For fear of growing old_

The stop button momentarily freezes the image of the smiling young man before giving way to the colourfully bored screensaver. (Press stop again or any key to continue).

The DVD is spewed into his hand and, as the tears burn his eyes—the first real tears he's cried in years—he has to fight the urge to throw the movie to the floor. Had he ever been so young? Had that smile been real or was it for the benefit of a camera? He thinks, thinks hard until he feels the beginnings of a headache, but can't remember.

_Beware this troubled world_

_Control your intake_

_Goodbye to open sores_

The phone rings and he talks to his mother. The talk is light and non thought provoking. Who did this, who did that and what's it like to work with Bruce Willis. When he hangs up the phone, loneliness washes over him, leaving a lump in his chest.

Moving to the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge. Another follows. Drunk to the point of honesty, he calls his friend.

_Sometimes it's faded_

_Assassinated_

_For the fear of growing old_

“What's up, Jon?”

The voice is soothing enough to cut through the despair that often consumed him. “I just finished watching a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

He pauses, it's a long pause. When he speaks it sounds like a terrible impression of his role in Stephen King's _IT_. “I-I don't...Can you come over?”

The intake of breath is clear; a whistle between clenched teeth. “Sure. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

_Hang on_

_Though we try_

_It's gone_

The belt slips over his head with ease. His eyes, still a beautiful shade of baby blue, never leave his front door. The last thing he sees, feet helplessly kicking air, isn't his friend running to his rescue. The door remains stubbornly shut, like his eyes eventually do, cutting him off from a hard cold world.

_For fear of growing old...._

_Can't stop growing old..._

27 years old and the memories preserve his teenage years; like the years after nineteen never happened.


End file.
